


Krogan Sugar Daddy

by Aelia_D



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: As explicit as it can get without making it gendered, Explicit Sex, Gratuitous use of actual lube, Krogan/Human - Freeform, Minor Canonical Character(s), Organized Crime, Original Character(s), Other, Sugar Daddy Krogan, genderless reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 16:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15222695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelia_D/pseuds/Aelia_D
Summary: Thax Vorak, Citadel business magnate, and crime lord was once your lover. A year ago, it all fell apart. Now he's seeking to make amends in his overbearing way. You're not sure you're willing to let him.





	Krogan Sugar Daddy

“I’m Commander Shepard and this is my favorite store on the Citadel!” the holo said. You cringed.

After months of working in the markets in the upper wards, you were  _really_  sick of hearing that message. It was on loop at at least a dozen stores nearby, giving lie to any of them actually being the Commander’s favorite. It didn’t matter to most people though; if the glorious Commander Shepard loved a store, they loved it, too.

The clock ticked down to the end of your shift. You punched a few things into the datapad in front of you, logging off for the day.

“I’m out!” You told the Asari taking over for you. She waved at you in acknowledgement, but didn’t look up from the customers she was working with.

There were approximately two hours between your shift at the shop and your shift serving at Flux. It was enough time to get home, inhale a protein pack, grab a quick nap, and get changed. You somewhat longingly remembered a time not so long ago when you didn’t need to work two jobs to pay your bills. But that was before.

Now you were nobody. And you had to earn your keep.

You arrived on the 32nd floor of your low-grade housing tower with a ping from the lift. Without looking around–what was there to see around here? The walls were the same dingy metal, uncleaned by the scrubbers, the floors were unswept, as always, there was probably a small heap of trash by the chute because it was probably out of order as always–you trudged toward your door.

Someone cleared their throat.

Your heart hammered, your adrenaline surged, and in an instant you had lept several meters back down the hall and had a pistol in your hands and trained on the target.

“Good to see you, too.” He said.

The Krogan leaning against your door grinned at you. He was impeccably dressed, in well-tailored formalwear. It imitated a human suit, but wasn’t quite, instead flattering the Krogan shape. His deep green skin was riddled with scars you’d known well once.

You hesitated for a moment before putting away your pistol. If Thax Vorak wanted you dead, you’d be dead. He wouldn’t be standing in front of your apartment door, apparently waiting for you to get off your shift.

“I have to be at work in 2 hours. Keep this quick.” You brushed past him to unlock the door, ignoring the way your skin sparked at his touch. That part of your life was over.

“You just got off work,” he said, apparently well versed enough in your life to know that, but not well versed enough to know about your second job. Or maybe he was trying to make you admit how pathetic your life was without him. As if your apartment wasn’t indication enough.

“I have two jobs now,” you said. You busied yourself in the kitchen, dropping a mealpack in to heat before leaning against the dingy counter to stare at him.

He looked so out of place in your apartment. The room was too small, the furniture was threadbare, the carpet stained, the tech out of date by about 5 years. You crossed your arms over your chest, and cocked your head at him.

“Well?” The word came out heavier than you intended, but there was too much history between you for there to be no hurt.

You’d worked your way up in his empire, from a lowly peon to one of his more trusted associates. Being human, you’d never been his right hand, but you’d  _mattered_ to him, you thought. Then your dad had gotten sick, and you’d had to take care of him.

When your father had gotten worse, and you hadn’t been able to leave his side to do your job, Vorak hadn’t even come himself to talk to you. He’d sent a minion to tell you that you were being granted your life in exchange for the syndicate keeping all of the wealth you’d accumulated while you worked for them. There were non disclosure agreements to sign, and related things that all amounted to a paper trail that only the most above-board Krogan crime syndicate would ever have. Then, they’d fired you from your legal job with one of their holding companies.

By the end of it all, you were homeless, jobless, and you’d had nothing to your name but a few sentimental items and a thousand credits.

Your father died six months ago. You hadn’t heard anything from Vorak, or anyone associated with him in over a year. And now here he was, waltzing back into your life as if he hadn’t discarded you like yesterday’s trash at the first hiccup.

So maybe the words came out heavy, but you were hurt, and you were angry, and with him in your apartment it was all bubbling to the surface.

He was watching you, his stare intense. His face wasn’t giving anything away- not that Krogan were known for being expressive- and you weren’t willing to give him an inch, either. The cooker behind you chimed. You pulled out the heated food and began eating it, almost on autopilot. You couldn’t afford to waste it, even when you weren’t terribly hungry.

“This isn’t where I expected to find you,” he said finally, breaking the awkward silence.

You quirked a brow at him and finished chewing, but it seemed he didn’t have more to say.

“Really? You dump me on my ass with nothing to my name and you think I’m going to be where? Living in luxury?”

“I didn’t dump you,” he said. “You  _left_.”

“To take care of my  _dying father_ ,” you heard yourself starting to shout. “And then you  _fired_  me, took  _everything_  from me, and left me with  _nothing_. So who’s really the one who screwed up, here?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it several times.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. So tell me what you came to say, and then do me a favor and get the hell out.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said, after several moments had passed. “But, that’s a problem, and until I get to the bottom of it, I won’t be bothering you. I’m sorry. And I just wanted to say that I missed you.”

“Sure you did. Now get out,” you said, pointing a shaking hand at the door.

He left without saying a word. The door opened and closed with a hiss and a quiet mechanical click. Once he was gone, you dumped the remains of the meal in the trash, and broke down. You missed him, too. You missed him  _so much_  but you couldn’t forgive him for what had been done.

You let yourself cry. For what you’d had, and lost. Because you’d loved him. You’d truly  _loved him_ and he’d discarded you like you meant nothing to him. For the fact that your father would have hugged you, and you’d never get a hug from him again. For the fact that you were trapped in this garbage life, and you had nothing to show for any of the work you’d done, because you were just too exhausted  _surviving_  to dig yourself out of this hole.

After a few minutes, the alarm on your omnitool chimed, reminding you that it was time to get ready for your next shift. Just 6 galactic standard hours, and then you could sleep.

—

It would be a lie to say you had managed to put the encounter with Vorak behind you, but survival was hard work, and you hadn’t had time to dwell. So while you hadn’t managed to forget it, it wasn’t in the forefront of your mind.

Until one night about a week later when you once again found the well-dressed Krogan standing in front of your apartment. You were tempted to shoot him to make your point, but you’d spent so long working to survive that you weren’t ready to die. So instead, without acknowledging him, you walked to your door, unlocked it, and let him into your apartment.

“Is this going to keep happening?” You asked him, irritation clear on your face.

“Um.” For once, Vorak was at a loss for words. “You don’t owe me a chance to apologize, I screwed up, but not the way you think. I would like a chance to explain.”

You eyed  him. This wasn’t the Vorak you knew. Vorak didn’t admit fault, or stumble over his words, or any of the things he was doing now. Once you were looking at him, it was easier to see the ways that he was less put together than normal. His shirt was wrinkled. Wrinkled. His tie was crooked. He looked stressed.

“Fine, sit down, talk to me.” You gestured at the couch.

He eyed it, clearly not sure it could support the weight of a full-grown Krogan. Frankly, you weren’t sure it could, either, but it wasn’t like you ever got to use it anyway. You were too busy.

“Just sit.” You insisted.

He did. The couch groaned in protest but held. You took a seat in the only armchair you owned, and leaned back. It was strange seeing him off-balance like this, but in a way you relished it. After this many months of struggling because he’d pulled the rug out from under you, you felt like he deserved it.

“None of what happened to you was supposed to happen,” he said. “I knew you left to take care of your father, because we had that conversation in person. I still don’t know what went wrong after that, but no messages either of us tried to send the other went through. I have someone I trust working on that.”

You scoffed.

“I know,” Vorak said, shaking his head. “Whoever did that in the first place had to be someone I trusted. There’s a reason I know the person investigating is clean, but I can’t tell you why or it’ll compromise the whole operation. But none of what happened to you was supposed to happen.

“I love you. Still. And it broke my hearts when I thought you’d left me like that.” He reached into his jacket, pulled out a datapad, and offered it to you. “This has all the letters I wrote to you on it. I managed to recover the data from my comms unit. I don’t know where they were re-routed to, but this is what you should have seen. Additionally, it’s got all the codes for my new unit, should you want to talk to me.”

“Okay,” you managed to say.

“There’s more.” He reached into a different pocket and handed you a data chip. “This has further information that you might find relevant about who was working for me at the time, and who is working for me now. I want to know the name of everyone from my organization who interacted with you after you left. I need to deal with them.”

You managed to nod. Processing this all was somewhat overwhelming. You’d spent so long being hurt and angry. But you believed him. There was no reason to lie about this to you.

“I’ll get you the information I can.” You told him.

“Thank you.” He rose and crossed the room, ready to leave. Before he left, he turned to look at you. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what had happened. I should have. I failed you.”

With that, he was gone, and you were once again alone to deal with the aftermath of his departure.

That night you read the letters he’d sent you, and your heart broke. For him, and for you. You identified the people he asked for, giving Vorak the names. Let them pay for what they’d done. You missed what you’d had, but your reality was different now.

—-

For the next several days, gifts arrived. First there were groceries featuring actual fruits and vegetables suitable for humans, rather than the meal packs you’d been surviving on for so long. Apparently Vorak still remembered your love of apples, because there were several of them.

The next thing was a new couch, something that could definitely support a Krogan. You laughed a little at that, even as you wanted to tell him to knock it off. He should have suspected something. He should have noticed. He should have tried harder.

On the third day, you got a message on your comm telling you that a deposit had been made. When you checked, you realized it was actually quite a bit of money.

That was when you gave in and sent him a message.

You >> What do you think you’re doing? You can’t just buy your way back into my life.  
Vorak >> I’m not trying to. Those credits should never have been taken from you.  
You >> Right.  
Vorak >> Just take the credits. You don’t owe me anything for them.  
Vorak >> If you come back, I want it to be for me. Not because of what I did.

You left it at that. You didn’t know what to say to him, and frankly you were more than a little lost, trying to figure out how to deal with everything that had happened in the last few weeks.

On day four, you came home to find Vorak outside your door again. He had a bag, presumably containing takeout in his hand.

You eyed the food, weighing the choice. You could take the food and leave him outside, and he might even let you get away with it. But you were sort of enjoying the way he was trying to win you over again, and make amends. He seemed to follow your thought process, because when you glanced from the food in his hand to his face, he was grinning at you.

“You  _could_  just take the food,” he nearly purred. “But I also have  _information_.”

You scowled at him, more charmed than you wanted to let on, and allowed him into your apartment. Only, apparently at some point  _more_  furniture had been delivered, because you now had a proper dining set- as opposed to the folding table and mismatched folding chairs you’d had previously- and your entertainment center was new.

“This has to stop, Vorak.” You said, taking the food from him and storming into the kitchen. “I’m not looking for a sugar daddy.”

“This is me trying to give you what you should have had all along.” He said, still calm, as he took a seat at your table.

He didn’t invade your space, instead keeping his distance and letting you rage. He watched from the table, the smile on his face suggested he even found your anger cute, which of course made you that much more frustrated and angry. You fought the urge to throw things, instead placing food on plates with more force than necessary. At least your plates were still your mismatched set, though after he saw them he’d probably try to replace those, too.

Plates of food and drinks were dropped on the table with audible thuds which seemed to charm Vorak. You scowled at him as you ate, though you had to admit, he’d done good; the food was some of your favorite, from a restaurant you went to whenever you could afford it.

“Thank you.” You said finally. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do.”

“Do you know what I’m trying to do?” Vorak asked, sitting back in his chair and just looking at you.

“I’m not sure I entirely do, no.” You admitted with a sigh.

“Krogans want to protect people they care about. Six months ago, I thought I’d lost you, that you’d abandoned me and didn’t want me anymore. I admit, I didn’t fight as hard as I should have, but I let my pride get in the way, and I thought I had it on good authority that you’d left. I failed you. I have a lot to prove.” He reached for your hand, taking it in his massive, leathery grip. “I missed you. More than you know. And I cannot undo what was done, but I can try to make some of it right.”

It wasn’t easy to see the ruthless crime lord as he was sitting in your apartment telling you how important you were to him. Still, you’d seen first hand what he was capable of, and you knew that this wasn’t easy for him. You wanted to melt, to give in and wrap your arms around him, run your hands over his plates, and let him make you feel safe and wanted again. But you couldn’t. Not this easily.

“I think I understand better now, but I’m sure you know this is a lot to take in.”

Vorak nodded.

“I’m here, and I’ll help you whether you accept me as your lover again or not,” he said. “I’m still working on tracking down the bastards who fucked you over. They’ll pay. But you and I have a lot of lost time that I’d like an opportunity to make up, if you’ll let me.”

“I think I’d like that.” You admitted. “I’ve missed you, too.”

His hand released yours, and instead came up to cup your cheek. You leaned into it, letting your eyes fall closed. It felt nice to have him here. You didn’t let yourself linger too long, though. After a few moments, you pulled back, and locked eyes with him.

“You said you had information?”

He did. A data chip filled with information on the suspects. He needed to know more about what you remembered from the weeks and months before your father’s illness, trying to figure out who would have a grudge against you and why.

“I have reason to believe it’s personal.” He said.

“Fuck.”

—-

By the end of the month Vorak had managed to get you to move to a nicer apartment in a different residential tower. It wasn’t the high-end unit he wanted you in, but it was one that had actual security on the building. He had pushed, and you had pushed back, and ultimately he had only won the argument by telling you that until he found out who had tried to get rid of you in the first place, he was going to put security on your apartment if you didn’t move.

You imagined having two of his thugs standing outside your door, and relented.

Vorak was right, in this case. Not that you would tell him. Someone had tried to get you out of his life, and now you were back in it, however minutely. They would not be happy you were back, and might do something drastic. The infamous Thax Vorak, business magnate and crime lord, had associates who were known for creative violence, and if any of them truly wanted to get rid of you, there was very little you could do about it on your own.

So you’d let him arrange to have your things moved into a new apartment. At least temporarily. You could find something different on your own once this was all over. You’d met the manager, signed the paperwork, transferred the credits, and shown up to find that in the course of having your things moved, Vorak had replaced yet more of your ratty old things.

“This has to stop.” You told him.

“What has to stop?” He asked.

“I  _liked_  those dishes.” You said with a glare.

“They were horrible.” He replied, and yes, he was right, they were horrible.

“They were  _mine_.” You remembered getting them a few at a time from the secondhand shop, and the scavengers, and from a half-dozen different places.

“I’ll get them back for you, then.” He said.

“That’s not the point!” You said, turning and glaring at him. This wasn’t about the plates. This was about all of the decisions he was making for you, because he was used to being able to walk in and take control of whatever. And you weren’t going to let him. You had built a life, and maybe it was shitty, but it was  _yours_.

“Do you want the dishes or not?” He asked.

You swallowed your frustration. The urge to throw a tantrum was strong. For a moment you allowed yourself to imagine storming away, shrieking into your pillow and throwing things. Then you let that image go, and you looked at the Krogan in front of you.

“I know you’re trying to take care of me, but this is my life, and you aren’t in charge of it. You can’t just decide that my things aren’t good enough. You need to talk to me about it.”

You saw a few things warring across his face before he nodded.

“Apologies.” He finally said. “I overstepped.”

“I would like my dishes back. I’m going to keep both.” You told him.

He grimaced, but made a phone call. You listened to him arrange the delivery of your belongings efficiently. It seemed that none of your stuff had been disposed of, rather, he was having it stored for you, should you want any of it back. Interesting. He was more thoughtful than you’d given him credit for.  

“Thank you.” You said, stepping close to him and placing a kiss on his cheek. “Now, I’ve got to get ready for work.”

—-

If someone had told you five years ago that you would end up working for C-Sec you would have laughed in their faces. At the time you’d been making something for yourself in the Thax Syndicate, and things had been looking good. Now though? Now you were working for Citadel Security, something resembling a regular office job. Old-you would have hated what you’d become.

New-you was pretty content. When you only needed to work one job, you could go for a regular schedule, instead of a weird second- or third-shift job. C-Sec paid better. It had benefits. And as an added perk, you were safe from whichever Thax Thugs were after you, at least while you were at work.

You were working reception when one of the Thax Syndicate guys was brought in though. One you immediately recognized. He was a well-dressed Krogan, and he carried himself with a dignity that belied the fact that he was in cuffs. He was flanked by a large Turian and another Krogan. Thankfully, he didn’t see you, and you were able to snap a photo of him.

You sent it to Vorak, knowing full well that whatever happened to this Krogan wouldn’t be pretty. It wasn’t your problem, though. He’d brought it on himself.

When you got home that night, and Vorak was outside your apartment, once again waiting with dinner, you managed to smile at him. He’d stopped replacing items in your home without asking you. Instead he lavished his attention on you, and brought you delicious meals.

“He’s being dealt with,” Vorak told you as he ate off one of your mismatched plates.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“That means you can come back, work for Thax again.” He said, a hopeful note in his voice.

“I’ve built a life for myself. Yes, you’ve helped, but this is it now.” You gestured to the apartment. “I work for C-Sec, not Thax, and it’s going to stay that way. But I do like having you back in my life.”

After dinner, the two of you settled on the couch. Where once you might have left space between you, you instead chose to sit close, leaning against Vorak as the two of you watched an older Blasto movie. His arm snaked around you, pulling you closer, and for a while that was enough. You felt the softness of his suit, and enjoyed his unique scent- some combination of his cleansers and pheromones that just smelled like  _home_  to you.

As the movie wound down, you decided that you’d had enough with waiting. You shifted on the couch, moving so you were straddling Vorak’s lap. His hands came up to grab you, squeezing your hips. You leaned forward, and thunked your head gently to his. He grunted in response, a good noise, you remembered.

His hands drifted up your sides, his touch firm, but not quite rough. You pressed your mouth to his, and nibbled on his lips. He made noises of appreciation, but let you take the lead as you explored him. With one hand, you ran your fingers over the tender skin of his neck, dragging your nails over it until he shuddered against you. With the other you reached between you and started undoing his tie. You wanted to touch him.

Vorak’s huge fingers tangled in your hair and tugged, pulling your mouth away from him, angling your head back so he could nibble on your neck. You moaned as he did so, feeling your arousal grow exponentially. He still remembered exactly what you liked.

You succeeded in getting his tie undone and began to work on his buttons, rolling your hips against him all the while, enjoying the friction it created between you. He groaned, and thrust toward you, humping at you through your clothes.

“Take me to bed,” you said, nibbling on the soft skin between his armored plating.

“Gladly,” His hands shifted to cup your ass and hold you close as he walked to the bedroom. Every step rubbed you against him, and elicited mewling gasps from you. Instead of dropping you, he lowered both of you, and ground himself against you, his hips moving in a circle, upping the ante and  the friction.

You arched, and he chuckled.

“I missed this so much,” he said, stepping away and rapidly shedding his clothing.

“Me, too.”

On the bed you did the same, too eager to feel his body against yours to fuss with seduction. He was here, and he was gloriously naked. His erection jutted away from his body, his cock thick and long, practically glistening for you. His balls hung below it, all four of them heavy and ready to go.

He climbed back on the bed, rubbing his erection against you. You writhed under him, halfway to climax already, and all he’d done was rut against you. His mouth descended on you, nipping at your neck, your shoulder, your chest, leaving marks on the tender skin. You, in turn, scratched your nails along the gaps in his plating, working him up.

“I need to be inside you soon” he said, breathing hard.

“Let me up then,” you said.

He rolled off you and onto his back, laying there and panting, idly running one hand over his straining erection as he watched you dig through the bedside drawer for the lube. You shoved aside the Krogan shaped dildo, and pulled out the bottle you liked before climbing onto the bed beside him.

You positioned himself so he could reach you, and poured some onto his fingers, which he promptly began working into you, lubing you up. You poured some onto his cock, working it along his length, getting him ready to go. He thrust up at you, his breathing getting more erratic. You took it slow, not wanting to push him over the edge before he was inside you.

“Babe, just make me cum, we’ve got more chances tonight,” he said, sounding strained.

So you did, wrapping your hand around him and pumping it along him until he was grunting and thrusting desperately. He plunged his fingers into you with every pump of his hips touching you exactly the way you needed, until you, too, were rolling your hips, chasing your climax as he chased his. You came with a groan as he did.

When you recovered a bit you looked at him, looking spent in your bed, his cock softening, a sticky mess spattered across his belly. He laughed with you, and shifted his fingers which were still buried in you. You let out a whimper. His cock twitched. Within a minute or two, he was hard and ready to go again.

“Ride me, gorgeous,” he said. “I want to see you split yourself on me.”

“Yeah.” You said, eloquent in the moment.

He grinned, and poured more lube over his cock before helping you climb over him. You positioned yourself and began to lower yourself, taking him bit by bit, feeling the stretch and burn as he filled you. He was so big, so good, so  _perfect_  that you were trembling on the edge of another orgasm by the time you’d sunk all the way down.

“Fuck, that was beautiful,” he said with a gasp. “Now use me.” He demanded.

So you did. You rode him, chasing your pleasure, listening to the way he growled and grunted, the pants and moans that escaped him as you used his cock to tease yourself. You know you made wanton noises, and there was a litany of praise about how gorgeous you were, how perfect you felt.

He came again when you did, and you felt him empty himself into you with a long groan.

When you finally climbed off him, you were worn out, covered in lube and fluids from both of you. He pulled you close, and nuzzled against you.

The rest of the night was something of a blur. You know there was more toe-curling sex. You know there was a shower. You’re certain he even fed you again, but it was all a haze of happiness.

The next thing you remembered with clarity was waking up in his arms for the first time in nearly two years. He snored softly in your ear, and the plating on his thigh dug into your butt. You squirmed in his arms, waking him.

“Hey,” he said with a sleepy smile.

“Hey,” you said.

“I’m glad you’re back.” He said.

“I’m glad, too.” You said, and kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> This started with a prompt on tumblr, and was supposed to be a drabble, but became something more. Feel free to check out all my monster and alien writing over at aelia-likes-monsters.tumblr.com :)


End file.
